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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27190289">fire hunt</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexmyeon/pseuds/rexmyeon'>rexmyeon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>EXO (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate universe - Mafia, Dark Past, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 04:15:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,964</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27190289</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexmyeon/pseuds/rexmyeon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chanyeol is like fire. Leaving only ashes whenever someone stands against him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Park Chanyeol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>fire hunt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Don't let yourself get burnt *winks*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As soon as the clock strikes the end of the lecture, a wave of students hurriedly leaves the hall, waving a short goodbye at the professor languidly gathering his things into a leather briefcase. He answers them with a vibrant grin, white teeth shining in the dim light, causing some of the weak teenage hearts to flutter. </p><p>The smile falters as soon as there’s no one around, a stony, serious expression replacing it swiftly, and a dazzle of relief makes Chanyeol’s shoulders slump down slightly as he releases a long-kept breath constricting his lungs. The play is over. Time to take off the mask.</p><p>Teaching is not <em> that </em> bad per se. Not the best either. It keeps him grounded, helps him get a taste of a normal life from time to time, takes his thoughts away for a short while. Physics is his forte, so it’s easy to accommodate into this new role of a student-friendly, well-behaved professor.</p><p>Life has surprisingly brought him to this point, let him fulfill one of his stupid, chlidish dreams he used to carry around in his mind as an unexperienced kid. He used to love science. </p><p>Yet it’s not what he does the best. Not what he usually spends his time on. Now he's more into business, one can say. His <em> true </em> job needs sacrifices, the current task being merely a cover, and he is devoted to it fully now. Sometimes you have to be no one if you want to eventually become <em> the one. </em> Especially in <em> this </em>city.</p><p>Chanyeol’s fingers unconsciously wander to his eyelids, taking off the fake glasses in the process, rubbing the tiredness and tedium away. They trail further away, reaching his exposed forehead, sliding against slightly tanned skin to the mop of blonde hair, styled up, neatly shaved at the sides. </p><p>The pleasurable softness under his fingertips soothes the irritation that appeared somewhere in the middle of his last class. He is expecting an important call, but there’s no trace of it, no matter how many times he throws an eager glance at his phone.</p><p>It bodes nothing promising. Especially to Sehun, his right hand, the most trusted man. </p><p>Rain pitter-patters loudly against his Mustang, sliding down the red surface, forming a tide of teary waterfalls. If the world is crying, then definitely <em> something </em>is bound to happen tonight. A lone tremor runs up and down his spine at the sole thought.</p><p>Chanyeol relaxes against the comfortable seat of his car, leans his head back on the headrest, a few tiny droplets falling from his wet face one by one. The air in the small space is damp as the heater finally starts working, coldness drifting away into oblivion, replaced by the warmth seeping deep underneath his skin. He takes off his blazer after a while, left only in a bit soaked slacks and much drier white, neat button up. </p><p>A sigh leaves his pink lips before they clasp tightly, the perfectly cut jaw tightening unconsciously, teeth clashing against each other. Chanyeol can’t help but brush his hair back once again, pulling at the wet strands curling up from the humidity.</p><p>He isn’t nervous, rather impatient. Time matters, and right now it’s unnecessarily ticking away into the overwhelming silence. </p><p>Maybe he should simply start the engine and drop by without further ado, maybe an unexpected entrance wouldn’t be bad. But then he would have to work on their guest from the beginning till the end, and he is too worn-out to deal with the preparation. He has Sehun for a reason. It’s only the last touch that belongs to him. The cherry on top.</p><p>It seems like eternity when the phone suddenly beams, a pleasant vibration against his thigh churning his attention, straightening his body.</p><p>“Everything is ready,” the deep voice on the other side reverberates in Chanyeol’s ears, spilling pure honey onto the bitterness in the back of his throat.</p><p>“Good. Did he—”</p><p>“Come and ask yourself.”</p><p>Chanyeol grunts, wondering for the umpteenth time why he’s even letting Sehun act this way. </p><p>Yet he is, and he will. He will let it slide anyway, always, it’s not like he even has a choice. That’s the factor making their deal work, assuring them that if it stays this way, it will <em> always </em> work out. Sehun is independent, and Chanyeol will not keep him on the leash as long as he’s loyal.</p><p>The vehicle takes its time strolling down the streets awash with more and more hopeless tears. Gloomy clouds hover over the tall buildings, a blanket of foggy blackness covering the usually starry canopy, looming heavy and large. </p><p>Chanyeol simply feels <em> it. </em> The bittersweet sense of <em> his </em> presence in the dirty city, of <em> him</em>, suffocating, overpowering, embracing his thoughts with every droplet of water that falls from the sky.</p><p>One of his men waits by the entrance to the abandoned building, immediately leading Chanyeol down to the basement. It’s soggy, cold, smells like sewage, like misery, like <em> death. </em>He swallows harshly, pushing the acidic hunch down his throat. </p><p>The air turns metallic the closer they are to their destination, and Chanyeol can’t help but feel the burn of excitement in his gut. It means Sehun did his job well. Of course he did.</p><p>Before he enters the room the sleeves of his shirt are being rolled up to his elbows, messily, a bit too tightly. He doesn’t like getting them dirty. Bloodstains tend to stay even if he thoroughly washes them away, maybe not particularly on the fabric, but rather on his mind.</p><p>Chanyeol walks into the dark space, his confident steps echoing around the scratched, ruined walls, carrying him to the center where a human desolation occupies an old, wooden chair. There’s almost no light here, the only bulb faintly illuminating the man’s swollen, livid face. Chanyeol spares him a short, uninterested glare, focusing on Sehun instead.</p><p>“Did he say anything?”</p><p>“Not much,” Sehun shrugs. “But he’s ready to tell you everything. Ain’t you, scum?”</p><p>The tall man dressed in all-black kicks the chair with full strength, enough for the object to land on the floor with a loud thud, forcing a strained groan out of the person tightly tied down to it.</p><p>Chanyeol stands over the man battered by Sehun, covering the streak of light with his body, looking at the miserable form in disgust. There’s a dark blue drop of water tattooed on the man's neck, on the left side of it, an emblem that indicates who he is, to whom he owes his life.</p><p>It’s <em> him</em>, of course it is.</p><p>Sehun moves impatiently behind Chanyeol’s back as his boss crouches, drapes the prey with a hateful gaze, squinting his eyes as the body shakes under his scrutiny, terrified, massacred by Sehun’s previous actions. Good. He likes when they squirm in fear.</p><p>“Who do you work for?” Chanyeol says, loudly, clearly, a wry smile lifting the corner of his lips, because he already <em> knows, </em>he <em>feels </em>it.</p><p>The man is silent, though incoherent whimpers leave his mouth when he feels two pairs of eyes pinning him down to the ground.</p><p>“What, you forgot how to talk?” Sehun chuckles at Chanyeol’s words; he loves a good show, and Chanyeol is a good performer after all. “Maybe you're thirsty, huh? Need some <em> water</em>?”</p><p>One gesture at his associate is enough to receive a bucket full of icy-cold liquid. The man on the floor shouts and wiggles feverishly, but it won't help him unless he starts talking.</p><p>Chanyeol waits no more to spill the content of the container straight onto the face of their guest, slowly, taking his time, revelling in the sound of choking, of gasping for air. He stops, lets the man rest for a second, then repeats the motion using the rest of the water left, careful not to lose the precious breath giving him information, but cruel enough to show who has the upper hand here.</p><p>"Who do you work for?" he repeats the question, crouching next to the man again, looking him straight into the eyes filled with dread.</p><p>Silence. Nothing apart from the still present choking and whimpering. Chanyeol is a patient man, yet the thin line of patience ends somewhere.</p><p>"Listen, it's up to you whether you comply or not, but if I were you," Chanyeol growls, squishing the poor thing's cheeks harshly using one hand. "I wouldn't mess with us. So, for the fucks sake, speak."</p><p>Silence. Nothing.</p><p>"Well," Chanyeol looks at Sehun with a knowing look, and the latter reciprocates it with excitement dancing in his pupils.</p><p>Sehun could be insane at times. That's why he is so good at this job.</p><p>Chanyeol can be ruthless when he wants to as well, however he is well known for his… aggressive negotiations.</p><p>"For every thirty seconds of silence I will cut off one of your fingers. So better speak if you ever want to use your hands again."</p><p>"I… I can't," the man stutters out, shaking his head left and right as if he is in a trance. "I can't."</p><p>"One finger down, nine more to go," that's all he says before Sehun passes him a sharp knife.</p><p>Chanyeol presses his knee to the man's arm, taking the last glance at his face, boiling up emotions running through his body in waves, though he keeps his composed demeanor.</p><p>The person underneath him cries now, cries like the sky did earlier, salty waterfall getting into the cuts and bruises on his face. One move of Chanyeol's hand and...</p><p>"S-Suho."</p><p>Chanyeol feels the thrill of victory on his nape.</p><p>"Louder," he stands up, presses a shoe to the hostage's chest, almost fully stepping on him. "I said louder!"</p><p>"Suho! I work for Suho!" the man whines pathetically, shaking, shivering. "Suho!"</p><p>Everything around him becomes a blur out of sudden. The disturbing smell drifting in the air disappears. Chanyeol knew it's <em> him, </em>but hearing the nickname for the first time in years creates a pit of biting fire in his gut. This is it. His confirmation.</p><p>"Kim Junmyeon's dog," Sehun snarls. "Thought so."</p><p>"Fuck you both!" the hostage shouts, choking on his tears, gasping as Chanyeol still presses the tip of his shoe into his lungs, stronger this time. "He will end you! He will come for you! You will regret showing up in <em> his </em>city!"</p><p>"Oh, that's what I'm counting on," Chanyeol chuckles dryly, kicking the man in the stomach before he steps away, turns around to share a quick glance with his partner. </p><p>Sehun nods, takes out a small lighter along with a packet of cigarettes, passing them to his boss. </p><p>"Junmyeon's dogs have always liked to bark," Sehun cackles darkly, crossing his arms on his chest; Chanyeol only smirks at that, memories flashing in his head in vivid images, something painful blooming in his chest.</p><p>The reverie ends when he sees the flame coming out of the object in his hand. </p><p>Chanyeol doesn't smoke, no, he simply likes to play with fire. Likes to see when something burns, when the flames swallow everything that they encounter, leaving nothing behind, unforgiving, merciless, untamed. </p><p>People tend to say the fire listens to Chanyeol as if he wields the power to control it, that this is his element, his silent ally. It's hard to disagree. After all, Chanyeol is like fire himself. Leaving only ashes whenever someone stands against him.</p><p>The cigarette is well lit now, needing the first take on it to start burning more, so he inhales the poison for the sake of his performance, crouches yet again, puts the smoky stick close to the water tattoo on the pathetic man's body.</p><p>"Water fights fire, they say. This time it will be fire that will make the water burn," Chanyeol whispers, and then there's only shouting, and more squirming, and tears, only tears.</p><p>His job is done. He left a trace of himself on something that is Junmyeon's, an act that speaks louder than words, a demonstration of power, an indication that it's only the beginning.</p><p>Chanyeol wants to convey a message. Show that it's no longer fun and games. He is back, stronger than ever, more confident, sure of his stance.</p><p>"Sehun," he chimes in, his voice loud over the plaintive cry of help. "Tell someone to drop the scum onto one of his boss' boats in the docks, tie him to something, place a gag over his mouth. Junmyeon will have a nice surprise in the morning."</p><p>With that, he leaves the room, letting out the breath he didn't even know he was holding the whole time. He feels sick from the obnoxious smell, from the man's shouting pulsing in his head like a mantra, from Sehun's content look when he saw the human form in pure pain.</p><p>Chanyeol's head throbs with a dull ache as he keeps shuffling his feet to the exit, eager to breathe, to feel the cold rain on his scorching hot skin.</p><p>When he can finally inhale fresh air, his lungs scream with pleasure. He almost suffocated from the strong scent of dread wafting around the room. To his discontent, it stopped raining, but the stifling clouds are in their respective place, so it somehow seems at home.</p><p>Almost as if Junmyeon tries to say he won't give him what he wants. Chanyeol remembers how stubborn he used to be. Maybe still is.</p><p>It doesn't matter now. Once they were inseparable, always hand in hand, but now it doesn't matter.</p><p>Now it's only fire against water. And it's only up to them if there will be only ashes or a flood left.</p><p> </p><p>×</p><p> </p><p>The docks are unusually silent at the ungodly morning hour, the dawn barely rising from beneath the horizon, slowly spreading along with the fog closing in on everything around.</p><p>It's never a good wake up call when it's so urgent, so early. Never promising to experience something pleasant.</p><p>A group of people shivering from the cold is standing over the edge of the pier, gawking down at the lone boat. A boat that most definitely shouldn't be the centre of such attention. They whisper among each other frantically, fear evident in their postures, in their hushed voices, in the way they gesture.</p><p>A sleek car arrives from around the corner, causing a small flurry among men, raising a horde of dust into the air. They all straighten up, even more fearful now, chests brimful of respect to the person who immediately aligns the car.</p><p>The man is all black hair, black coat, black soul. He wears self-confidence and dignity like a prominent crown, carrying himself with pride making the ground beneath him shake, alarming everyone who <em>exactly</em> is gracing them with his appearance. His presence is always significantly changing the atmosphere, coming like a deadly tide of tsunami following the earthquake caused by his every step, caging everyone who is able to experience it on their body, taking each breath away, suffocating.</p><p>Two other men in tow, the overwhelming wave of authority washes over the group of people, stepping away now, letting the pair of dark, impassive eyes examine the situation.</p><p>“What happened here?” the voice flows through the air, firm, demanding.</p><p>“S-Suho,” one of the men answers. “We found him like this a while ago, he—”</p><p>Coldness of the pupils boring into the body on the boat transfers to a speaking person who cannot catch his breath anymore, too terrified, ceasing the words to leave his mouth.</p><p>“Is he alive?” Junmyeon asks, his expression turning into a frown.</p><p>“Yes, barely. He’s breathing, but his state is critical. He probably spent the whole night on the boat.”</p><p>“Well, then why is he <em>still</em> tied to it?” Junmyeon barks, expectantly looking around. “Take him out. What the fuck are you waiting for?”</p><p>After a moment of nervous shuffling the man is lying on the ground beneath the boss’ feet, and Junmyeon can’t help but scrunch his nose at the vile smell of dirt mixed with blood. His eyes wander over the body, over the cuts, bruises, hardly heaving chest. Someone dared to touch, torture what’s <em> his. </em></p><p>“Junmyeon, you might want to see this,” Minseok, his closest associate, is crouching down, dragging his finger along the neck of the unconscious victim.</p><p>Junmyeon squints his eyes, leans down, focusing on the spot pointed by the latter. There, in the place where a mark of the gang, the tattoo of the droplet should be, is a burnt spot, a pitch black circle.</p><p>It can’t be. No.</p><p>But Minseok’s nervous glare and the way he inhales sharply through his nose convince Junmyeon otherwise.</p><p>“Looks like Park Chanyeol’s job. I will recognise that dumbfuck’s signs everywhere,” Jongin joins them, the atmosphere tense, its density able to be cut by a knife.</p><p>Junmyeon swallows harshly, his lips twitching with irritation as he painfully bites his lower lip, nibbling at it between his teeth. Both Minseok and Jongin try to decipher his emotions, Junmyeon feels it, just as much as he feels Chanyeol’s presence in his city, evident in the burning scar, the burning anger inside his chest. The pang of excitement, too.</p><p>“If it’s really him, that’s the worst mistake he has ever made. Even worse than the last one,” Minseok stipulates, his catlike eyes not leaving his boss even for a split second. </p><p>“He’s fucked up,” Jongin chimes in. “Coming here for what exactly? Humiliation?”</p><p>Junmyeon clenches his jaw, clenches his fist, his heart clenches as well, filled with rage, with something gnawing, rotten, spilling poison all over his insides. He <em> knows </em>why Chanyeol is here.</p><p>For revenge. For the sabre-rattling. For the assurance that he remembers what Junmyeon has done.</p><p>“Very well,” Junmyeon says emotionlessly, ignoring the useless discussion, his words sharp and confident just like him. “The fire hunt has begun.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! I had so much fun creating this universe. It's been written in a sudden wave of creativity, caused by one and only amazing R., to whom I'm VERY grateful (if you're reading this I LOVE YOU!!) I feel like I have so much to tell you about this story, so who knows... maybe there will be more mafia suyeol from me in the future? It's only a hint of something bigger, merely a drabble, but I hope you liked it c:</p><p>As always, kudos and comments are much appreciated. Also, if you have questions hmu, either here or on <a href="https://twitter.com/hiyasuho">twitter</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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